Open Doors
by thepinkshades
Summary: When Blaine Anderson opens his first coffee shop, he is amazed that his lifelong dream has finally become a reality. Meanwhile, Kurt Hummel, an aspiring writer, searches for inspiration for his first novel in the immense city. AU where Blaine is 27 and Kurt is 24. Blaine has lived in New York his whole life, while Kurt moved to the city at 18.


**Author's Note: Hi, so this is my very first attempt at fanfiction. I truly appreciate any and all reviews, so please leave a comment! Enjoy!**

_**Blaine **_stepped out of the taxi with a strange sense of excitement. This was the begging of his new life. He quickly paid the the cab driver and walked a couple more steps to his destination. The sign, he saw, was finished. It stood atop the building in thick, vintage-looking, letters. Chaleur. This was his very own coffee shop. But, it was more than just a coffee shop, really. Blaine unlocked the French doors and walked in.

Inside he saw everything he had chosen over the summer. He saw the couches, which were in rich colors of orange and maroon and matched with equally stylish and comfortable chairs. He saw the dark tables that he spent several weekends staining to get the perfect shade. They complemented the couches perfectly. Further inside were the bookshelves that were full of novels that he had collected over the years from thrift stores and garage sales. The service counter was immaculate. Everything was in its place.

He walked further through the shop, toward the back, and through the archway to the second room. This was why he had chosen this building. It was huge. At least in comparison to most New York coffee places. In this room, were more comfy chairs dispersed, all facing the stage. The stage completed his vision. He imagined all the nights to come filled with soft music and beautiful poetry. This was his utopia. And it was opening today.

Blaine was awoken from his thoughts from three taps on the front door. He jog-walked to entrance and opened it.

"Hello there, Mr. Anderson. How does it feel to be an up and coming restaurateur?" remarked the man standing in the doorway, several boxes in his arms. Blaine grabbed one of them and led him to the counter where they set them down.

"Mike, I already told you that I won't consider myself a restaurateur if I only run one place. But awesome. It feels awesome. And surreal." He ran his hand through his curls.

"It's so you. Just how you described it to me for the last, what, seven thousand years?"

"Ha ha."

"So are you going to help me unload these, or just stand there and stare blankly until 8 o'clock?"

"I mean, I guess." Blaine smirked and pulled out a couple containers.

Inside of them were cookies, muffins, tarts, croissants, and many other baked goods that Mike had baked the night before. The plan for the business was for Mike to bake them every morning at the shop, but they agreed that it should be perfectly clean for its grand opening, so Mike had baked everything in his apartment. They loaded the display with the assortment of treats, and set up all the coffee devices. The coffee machines, being top of the line, were difficult to work with. Blaine, however, used them restlessly, creating, in the end, a perfect menu. Blaine checked his watch. It was 7:45.

"Should we open early?" Mike asked.

Blaine shrugged. "It guess there's no reason not to. Coffee places open way earlier than this."

"As will we, starting tomorrow." Mike reminded him.

"I know. 5 AM. The middle of the night!"

"You're so dramatic." Mike chuckled as he stepped behind the counter and picked up the 'Yes, we're open!' sign. "Want to do the honors?"

Blaine smiled and grabbed the sign. He went up to the window, and hung it up. "Tada!" They waited a moment.

"So." said Mike.

"Soooooo." repeated Blaine.

"I wonder who the first customer will be. A wealthy socialite?"

"Some hipster?"

"A tourist?"

"An old man with a dog?"

"A thug? He'll be so disappointed when he finds out we have absolutely no money."

"A super hero. Spider-Man. He'll save us from the thug _and_ buy a butterscotch latte." Blaine nodded his head intently.

"Santana!" Mike exclaimed.

Blaine looked up to see their friend walking through the door. She scanned the room and smiled.

"You did well my friends. But I can't help but notice that there is no one in here. Do you need me to force some passerby to come in? I'll do it." She walked over to them and leaned on the counter.

"I think we'll be okay. What can I get for ya, miss" Blaine winked.

"Something delicious but also not terrible for me. I, unlike a certain magical hobbit, cannot eat everything that I see." Mike gave Santana a knowing smirk.

Several moments later, Blaine came back from the coffee machines carrying a mug filled with a frothy drink. "Try it."

She took a sip. "This is good. Did you listen to anything I just said?"

"Vanilla soy latte sweetened with agave." Blaine grinned.

"Well, like I said, you've done well, but I've go to get going. I've got an audition for some commercial. Travel cup?"

Blaine poured it into one and handed it to her. "Good luck!" he called.

She smirked as she walked away, and then turned her head back to exclaim, "I don't need it!" And set off into the city.

_**Kurt **_hated people. And he loved people. They fascinated him immensely. It was always difficult for him to fathom how many people he saw just walking down the street and how each of them had the same inner monologue in their heads that he had. Well, not the same monologues, but monologues nevertheless. That's why, back when he was just 18, he had chosen to move to New York City. The city was bursting at the seams with people. People from every background. He saw the elite, with their blazers and suitcases, that walked coolly through the crowds. Then there were the weirdoes that one could find on almost every street. There were also the tourists that never failed to make an irritating scene. And then there was everybody else.

Kurt walked with purpose. In his six years of living in this city he had learned quite a few things. The first being not to care. You don't get where you want to go by apologizing every time you bump into someone walking the opposite way. Every day he tried to go somewhere new. He saw this as his attempt at becoming inspired. His cramped apartment on the lower east side was hardly ever was conducive to his writing. Lately, in fact, no where was conducive to his wrtting. He knew he had writer's block, but he assumed it was just because he wanted to start on something big, a novel, and had nowhere to even begin. And that's what led him to an area that he had only been around once or twice.

He recognized the sandwich shop that he had eaten at when he came here the first time, but other than that, these places were new to him. And he loved new. He saw that there was also a little bar with an Irish pub theme. On the other corner was a sign that read "Chaleur." He walked over to take a closer look. Through the doors, he could see that it was a coffee shop that was filled with many people. It was situated nice, however, and didn't feel too crowded.

He stepped in. The place really had a warm glow to it. The people around him were all engaged in quiet conversation. Kurt saw a secluded chair next to the bookshelves. He walked over and placed his satchel on the chair. He then walked over to the counter to order himself some breakfast. Someone shuffled out of the kitchen, and Kurt found himself face to face with one of the most gorgeous men he had ever seen.

"Hello, welcome to Chaleur! What can I get for you?"


End file.
